Except that her uncle's fingers were slipping closer and closer to her bulging breast. And he kept putting his mouth close to her ear when he talked. ...nd she was about to jump right out of the booth if he kept on. Now he was gazing at the expanse of naked tummy between her halter and her shorts. She was tan and flat-bellied there and her navel made a sexy little depression fringed with blonde down. Mitch seemed almost to be drooling as he looked. Then his fingers finally made it to her tit.. I made my way to the bar and ordered a drink. It had been far too long since I let go for an evening, and on this Friday night I was ready to indulge completely in all the hedonistic rituals this libidinous atmosphere encouraged.I had come alone, fueled with a bottle of wine, a bit of cocaine, and the desire for passion. I felt a good night of sex was long overdue. My eyes scanned the room, taking in the scene as I sipped my whiskey sour. The music had my entire being pulsing when my eyes met. Collapse was imminent. Herschel’s last entry described his escape and the route he would take to reach his secluded mansion.A final map tucked between the last pages of his journal traced the highways Herschel took. The route was marked with X’s in several locations, especially at river crossings and outside big cities, denoting a possible road block. From there a detour was drawn to reconnect with the intended route.If Herschel’s route represented the quickest or shortest passage to where. He returned four years ago with his honour in tatters. He was stationed in Uttar Pradesh where most of the fighting occurred when the Sepoy soldiers rose against The East India Company, but it would seem he fell victim to the bottle before he could ever slay an enemy. It is said that he was thrown off his horse while drunk. He broke his back, and he is now confined to a wheelchair. Old Marsden-Smith died not long after, a broken man from all accounts, after the truth came out about his.